One, Two, Three
by irinaray
Summary: Three perspectives on the same story. Little bit of drama, romance and angst. AU. M for some future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Her scent woke him first.

Powerful but not overwhelming. Not unlike the woman giving off the scent. Something floral; light but there all the same and Peter had never been sure if it was deodorant, lotion or perfume but it had always been there. That scent. Hell, it had been one of the first things he had noticed about her – she smelt good. She looked good, too. At least until she had dropped that entire FBI bomb on his doorstep and dragged him out of Bagdad. Still, just because she was the fed escorting him back to Boston to deal with his deranged, negligent father didn't make him _blind_ for god sake. She was attractive.

To say the least.

The memory was as fresh as the previous night but these days Peter preferred the real world to his past and when he opened his eyes, the reason lay, or sit, rather, right in front of him. On the side of the bed, her back to him, sat Olivia. Long, blonde hair cascading down her back and falling over her shoulders as she hunched over her own legs. Peter knew long before trying to work it out that she was tying her shoes, and since they were at her apartment she couldn't be running back home. It only left one option; Broyles had called and Peter had slept through the call. And she was going to let him.

Pulling himself up from his back, Peter rolled onto his stomach before scooting his way to the side of the bed. Still low and laying down, he reached forward, his fingers slipping around her sides and holding her as she laced her boots.

"You are supposed to be asleep," Olivia said without turning to face him, her voice as light as the air in the room and Peter knew even without face-to-face contact that she was smiling, hopefully glad that he had woken up before she snuck away.

"And you're supposed to be in bed." Peter's hands, still squeezing her sides slightly pulled up on her shirt; she was already dressed but it didn't stop him. His fingers pushed up the fabric of the white button-up to expose her spine and lower back, pale and beautiful and his for the taking. And, god, how he had been taking.

His lips pressed to her skin, finding the slight concave of her lower back particularly alluring as his tongue rippled up her spine, tracing the pattern and tasting her skin as he moved. Feeling the shiver run throughout her body only pressed him forward and his hands slipped against her, warming her always cool skin while he began to slide back against the mattress a little more.

"Come back to bed," He demanded softly, feeling the arch of her spine against his lips and already taking her answer for a 'yes.' He was sorely disappointed and surprised when Olivia stood up instead, turning to him quick on her heels.

God, she was smirking.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Peter stared at her, his features forming a pout as he rolled over again onto his back, settling under the sheets as he raised both his arms behind his head, tucking them against the pillow as he stared at Olivia. "Where are you going anyway? I didn't hear your cell."

"Yeah, you were pretty out," Olivia smiled back at him despite the pout, almost _bouncing_ over to the chair to grab her suit jacket which she slipped on easily and buttoned. "Broyles called, but he didn't ask for you or Walter. You get to stay in so far."

"Sure you don't want me to come?"

When she looked up, she brushed the bangs out of her eyes. The corners of her mouth came up into a quick smile.

"How many suspicious looks would we get then?" Her question brought a smile similar to hers to Peter's face. How many, indeed. Since he had been back – since _they_ had been back, they hadn't exactly been open about the steps they'd taken together. Peter, drawing back on his conning roots had told Olivia it wasn't lying, it was withholding information. And Olivia, instead of telling him how honest they should be after what had happened before, what had _always_ happened, had quietly agreed that withholding, for the time being, seemed like the best idea.

"All right. You go alone, I'll go home and check on Walter. I always get a little worried when he only calls four times a night anyway."

Olivia smiled, and Peter realized how fond he had grown of that different smile. More lopsided than before but fuller, too. She was quicker to grin at him than she had ever been before. Olivia the girlfriend was different, so different, from the Olivia he had known for two years. No change went without Peter's notice; everything from the way she held herself, to the way she walked, even to how she opened up to him had changed. But sleeping together did those things to a person. Spending nights together, going on dates, things were going to change and things had. Every change was justifiable.

She crossed the room, leaned over the side of the bed and through the hair that had fallen between them, met his lips for a kiss. "Good morning, Peter."

"I'll call you later." And he smiled back, glad to be with her. He watched her straighten herself up and turn on her heels once more. When she put a little something extra in each step as she exited the bedroom his eyes stayed on her figure, and long after she was out of sight he listened to her grab her things, her gun, her coffee, before the door clicked shut behind her.

Goddamn, Peter was happy.

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><p>When the door clicked behind Olivia's back, she pulled her phone from the purse and dialed without hesitation, waiting to walk down the hallway until the other end had been answered.<p>

"Okay," she said into the receiver. "What do I need to do?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Short one tonight, guys. I wanted to get something out since the next few days will probably be too crazy to write. Sorry, we're getting into it soon! Still love reviews like Walter loves RedVines; keep 'em coming!**

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><p>When the door clicked behind Olivia's back, she pulled her phone from the purse and dialed without hesitation, waiting to walk down the hallway until the other end had been answered.<p>

"Okay," she said into the receiver. "What do I need to do?"

Olivia listened to her directions over the phone, digging the keys for the SUV out of her purse as she walked outside into the light. By the time she was sitting at the wheel she had her task memorized. A quick drive to New York, one stop to collect the device and the other to meet her go-between and she would be done. Olivia figured by the time mid-afternoon had rolled around she could be back with Peter, with some clean excuse about paperwork and briefing Broyles. He'd never suspect a thing.

It was a clear, beautiful morning. Olivia would enjoy her drive.

How different it was, to be in a world that wasn't collapsing around her.

After two months on their side Olivia had begun to adapt to life without the things she had grown up with. Things were different on this side – the first she had noticed being that there were no Amber protocols (hell, no Amber for that matter) or new breaks about vortexes opening up in major cities. The viruses that she had learned to fear as she grew, the ones her mother worried about; Smallpox, Polio, they had been cured, eradicated or at least vastly prevented Over Here. Technology lagged; the secretary hadn't warned her of that, Olivia found herself puzzled by the lack of Show Me cards and ear pieces and security was much more relaxed. Well, sure, without the world collapsing around you there was no need to pinpoint every member of the human race the way they had Over There.

She had almost blown her cover multiple times now over the smallest of things. Being a couple years behind Over Here, left without the technology she was used to, Olivia could hardly care when some small luxuries that she hadn't even known she missed reappeared on this side. The first time Peter had brought her a cup of coffee Olivia knew she had acted _too_ grateful; her eyes probably wide with shock and awe, which only earned her a smart comment and a smile, too friendly, from Peter.

"_I've brought you coffee a million times, don't look so shocked_._" _And he had rubbed her shoulder in the same way that Frank sometimes would, in a way that told Olivia that Peter was something more to the girl just like her. Piecing together just how _together_ they were had been an entirely different story.

Visiting Harvard was another close call. Boston, nearly completely Ambered over, had been that way since Olivia was a girl; stepping into the city and onto the campus for the first time, realizing that it was almost a second home had left her humbled and quiet, too quiet for Peter, Walter and Astrid's liking. It was the moment she learned she had to watch herself.

Sheep, ball-point pens, airplanes instead of zeppelins. Avocados that just sat in the store, heaps at a time (and two in Olivia's fridge that had rotted upon Olivia's initial entrance into her pseudo-life. Oh, how livid she had been thinking her Other Self had let something so precious go to waste, until she went to the store and found she could have as many as she desired), not to mention pineapple. How long had it been since Olivia had tasted pineapple? She had ate an entire one in less than 12 hours that first week here.

Over Here, the inside of the Statue of Liberty, the Department of Defense, was a gift shop. What was the need of an entire Department of Defense without the tragedies that she knew first-hand? Fringe Division consisted of just about five people instead of five hundred and a private hospital unit. They were the outcasts and misfits; Olivia had heard their names bandied around at the FBI enough to know that they were considered lunatics and jokes. And that, too, the FBI, two decades out of service Over There still alive and bumping Over Here.

How quaint.

Over Here – it had earned the capital O and H in Olivia's mind. It wasn't a mock-reality anymore but somewhere as real, as real as New York or Maine or Texas had been Over There. It was a real place, with inhabitants just as real as the location.

Walter Bishop wasn't the secretary of defense. In fact, this Walter had been laughable to Olivia until their first case together and she had seen his brilliance. The same brilliance that had earned 'Walternate' as they called him the position he was in now. They were alike; brilliant to the point of madness but this Walter was humble. Kind. A human touch that she hadn't seen from the Secretary. It was hard to believe the man was a kidnapper.

Still, she thought she liked this Walter more.

And Peter – what had he called himself the first time they had met Over There? The Lindbergh Baby. The Lindbergh Baby, indeed, judging by the research she had done. The Peter Bishop that had been made famous Over There was barely above a crook Over Here and his written record had shocked Olivia. He had _still_ managed to get employed by the FBI. Not what she expected from the Secretary's son but still, there was something about him. Something that made her forget her job and that he was a pawn in it, that made her want to stay with him. She had a life where she was from, but Peter hadn't made some of her decisions easy. Still, she was damn loyal and committed to _her_ cause. _Her_ world. _Her _people.

This world had to go. Her world had to survive.

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><p>And in the world that had to survive, somewhere, a woman said, <em>I'm not from here.<em>


End file.
